Happy Endings by Dorian Sounde
and that feeling of contentment wells in your belly;
you feel full of satisfaction, you have no wont of more...
Living is easy,
Game,
Set...
Match.
You move to the study,
pause,
reflect,
breathe in the calming,
soothing rich mahogany,
only to find yourself lacking fulfilment,
and you begin to desire higher goals and dream of greater ends.
You're lost in your own subconscious battle for "happy".
There's an envelope that you can't open,
it conceals all the answers,
so many potential outcomes,
you can't be certain that you have the right ones,
you fear the unknown and doubt that you can be "happy" with your lot
life deals you a fine hand as you take a seat with friends in the billiard room.
A small, friendly game of poker should help cast some perspective,
but you can't help but glance at your cards with contempt - as if you
have been passed a gang of jokers.
You scan around the table,
hoping to catch a glimpse at someone else's hand - you suspect
they have an unfair advantage on you.
If they do, they hide it well; delving in to cyber conversations,
twittering on the web,
searching for clues,
in the library with the lead pipe,
trying to undo the "happy" of others.
But why are you so short sighted?
Why do you struggle to see what you have?
Perhaps take another look at the conservatory,
and consider the candlestick;
perhaps it holds more value than nostalgia or genteel pretense.
Perhaps that candlestick, that dull, golden candlestick,
perhaps it isn't so dull after all!
What you have been granted - you take,
for you fear not loss of what is yours.
Mr Green from next door,
he always seems greener when he's on the other side of the Ball Room,
but he isn't...he's still that same shade of bland, factory green.
You seek out "happy" elsewhere,
in doing so,
neglecting the root of your wealth.
You happen upon a revolver,
and place the cold metal firmly against your temple,
but this room doesn't smell of mahogany,
you can't remember the last time you bought a tin of brasso,
let alone applied it to your candlestick.
Your finger takes a hold of the trigger,
you can feel your pulse settle - and you are ready.
Fire! No hesitation when looking to self-destruct.
The answer isn't out there waiting for you to stumble across it...
The answer dwells within;
You make your own happy endings.
Wishes Come True by Brittaina Goffy
stars alight, moon so bright
air sharpening skin, where
wishes come true
Culture of hu
mans falling
earthquake trenches, preventing
wishes come true
only dared to look
once, snake fire
dancing
wishes come true
dare a wisp
of belief, under
these same stars, happily ever,
wishes come true